Hannibal's Apprentice
by Spaz Writer 13
Summary: After memories of murder, and death are revealed to Spiker by Hannibal Lecter, he must become his apprentice. Question is, will he accept his new calling as a criminal mastermind? Or become something more frightening than Hannibal? Please Review :
1. Chapter 1

Dr. DeMon is a brilliant doctor of medicine and science. He had a loving wife and a son they had adopted seven years ago. The boy's parents, the Demidov's, had been the DeMon's colleagues when they both taught at a University in Pennsylvania. When the Demidov's died suddenly in a fire at the apartment building, the DeMon's felt that it was their responsibility to take care of their son. The brilliant boy, now 15 years old, was a great scholar following in his father's footsteps by becoming a doctor. They lived in a New England home, where all the houses looked the same left and right that is until you left the street and ventured into another part of town.

Well now that you know the DeMon's...some what...you should really know their neighbors.

On the left were Mr. and Mrs. Binding. They were an old couple that moved to their condo in Florida every winter since the cold slowed down their old joints and made their arthritis act up. They were an enjoyable couple who threw lovely summer parties. On the right we're some college kids rooming together, most had moved out though since the semester was coming to a close. The rest of the neighbors on the street were nice couple, some with kids, some without, but we won't concern ourselves with those neighbors right now.

Down the street were another doctor, and this neighbor the DeMon's were close too, far more closer than they were to the Bindings or anyone else. The doctor's name was Dr. Hannibal Lecter. The good Doctor was always a real treat to have in house and his lovely dinner parties were to die for. And that is where we start, at a dinner party.

"Dr. Lector, your food is divine!" exclaimed Cynthia DeMon as she slowly lifted her wine glass to her face.

"I just love coming over for dinner." She added raising her glass respectfully.

"Thank you so much Mrs. DeMon, but I cannot accept a complement to you, not since I had your lovely garlic chicken last week!" Dr. Lector replied with his signature, charming grin.

Cynthia blushed at the complement and poked her fork around her food with a smile. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just another visit between friends and colleagues and arguing over whom was the best cook between them.

"Hannibal," Jonathan DeMon started.

"I know you said that I shouldn't discuss work, but I drastically need your help." He finished with a smile.

Hannibal replied with another grin.

"Well you don't mind if we go into the kitchen then?" He announced gathering dishes from the table. Jonathan shook his head.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I have to start of these dishes or they'll never get done." Lecter apologized

Jonathan nodded and followed Hannibal to the kitchen, discussing his problem as they went.

"Oh by the way, where is your son this fine evening?" Hannibal asked rolling up his sleeves, standing by the counter. Jonathan proudly smiled.

"He's at home, doing home work at the last minute like he always does." Jonathan chuckled.

"Oh, pity, I had plans for him tonight." Lector said as he placed the dishes in his hands into the sink before turning to face Mr. DeMon. Jonathon chuckled and promised to scold Spiker as soon as he got home, then suddenly, his face expression changed to one of conflict and distress.

"I would also like to discuss Spiker's nightmares with you again." He said softly. "It seems that he's remembering more, but for some reason he told me that he sees you in them. I don't ever remember you being at the university I used to teach at, nor do I have any recollection of you knowing the Demidovs!" He added.

"Hmm…" Lecter mused out loud. "That is odd." He added as he reached into one of the top drawers of his island counter top.

Spiker sat in his room, his stereo behind him belching out some incoherent music from a radio station. His white blond hair and pale skin looked a shade or two darker thanks to the dimness of the room. (The only light on was his desk lamp to the far left.) His icy blue eyes stared at his note book, which had a few words like "The reasons why Ponce De Leon was important to history...." and a few doodles involving a large, vicious looking dinosaur eating a building while stick people were running all around it frantically. It took up half the page.

He sighed and stood up to stretch his tall lanky frame when he realized that he hadn't eaten since noon that day, and his clock shouted 7:30 PM in neon blue numbers. He cast a weary glance at his paper, wondering if he should actually start and finish his paper or continue goofing off.

"Goof off duh!" Spiker thought with a mischievous grin before dashing out his bedroom door and towards the kitchen.

In a few seconds he was down the stairs raiding the refrigerator. His mom had prepared a meal for him since they were going to Dr. Lector's house for dinner, but he wasn't in the mood for a cold plate of extravagant looking meat loaf. Instead he got out the Tostinos Pizza Roles that were in the freezer. He was about to open the box when the phone rang.

His pale slender hand shot over to the phone on the counter with swift speed. The Caller ID Screen said "MOM" and her cell phone number followed it; he answered it with a slight touch.

'_Maybe she's calling to beg me to come over…' _Spiker thought with a chuckle. Only there wasn't anyone on the other side, it was silent, and he thought that he heard quick, labored breathing.

"Hello?" He finally shot into the receiver.

"Spiker???" A shaky voice replied.

"Mom?"

"Honey...w-we're trapped....I-I think your dad is dead!" Cynthia sobbed into the phone. Spiker felt the color drain from his face, fear slowly creeping up his body as if he was slowly being lowered into a frozen lake.

"Where are you?!?!" He asked frantically. No answer came from his mother, only her soft whimpers and sobs.

"Who killed dad?!?!" He shouted into the phone.

"The dinner party! It was-" The phone went dead, and fear ripped through Spiker's eyes like a scythe through a wheat field.

He looked out the window where he could see the back yard of Dr. Lector's house, not knowing what to do. His fingers drummed on the plastic back of the phone, it was an annoying habit that gave him comfort in tense situations.

_'Smart thing would be to call the police....' _He thought slowly. But the fear of finding his parents dead rippled a new plan through him, faint memories of his birth parents softly echoing in his mind.

_'I'll go over there....see if it's all just a big joke!' _

He gently placed the phone down and went upstairs to his room where he changed from pajama pants and a grey long sleeved shirt, to a white long sleeved shirt with a black, short sleeved shirt and dark blue Levis with black and white low top converse. After looking at himself in the mirror, he decided it was time to go, and went outside through the front door.

His feet felt foreign on the stone steps as he slowly walked down to the side walk, heart racing, and mind completely numb. He stumbled down the street as images raced through his mind, like hyper-active NASCAR drivers on drugs. Memories of his birth parents who had died when he was eight years old. He could still see their faces as they drew in their final breath. He closed his eyes as soft voices starting to sound off in his head like a pack of flies on the dead.

"Stop!" he whispered harshly to his memories. He was about to shout when the voices suddenly ceased, and he realized that he was in front of Dr. Lecter's house.

_'Please be the wrong house.' _He pleaded before embarking to the door.

Stiffly he walked up the steps of Lector's house, when he got to the top step he stared at the door for what seemed like an eternity before grabbing the knocker and rapping it against the door.

A few minutes go by....

No answer.

Fearful thoughts started a tsunami in his brain before he reached for the brass door knob. The cold metal stung his hand as the door swung open to the hall way that was dark and had an eerie quiet to it.

He stepped through into the house, looking around, gripping his house keys, pointed ends out.

The house creaked, but he didn't flinch. He looked around seeing no sigh of nothing and no one. His breathing became somewhat heavier as he crept his way towards the dining room, to his relief if was empty and clean. Dirty plates were still sitting patiently on the table; nothing seemed to be wrong, until he saw the door leading to the kitchen. The light was on, and Spiker thought he saw a tint of red through the crack from the bottom of the floor. His hands started to shake as he walked closer to the door. When he was close enough to open it, he felt someone watching him and turned around. Only there was nothing but his reflection in the china cabinets staring back with a worried look. After turning back around, Spiker pushed the door open slightly and what he saw made him want to vomit.

Blood was all over the counter and for some reason Spiker could hear the voices that accompanied the room. He could hear his mother's screams and someone else's heavy yet calm breathing. He dropped his keys in the blood and covered his ears.

"STOP!" He shouted out loud and suddenly all the screaming and voices stopped. He looked around, breaking out in a cold sweat. He was about to shout for Dr. Lecter when he heard something, a soft gurgling from behind the counter.

"W…ait!"

Spiker turned around sharply to see a pale hand coming out from behind the counter. He immediately sprinted towards it, only to see his father's twisted body on the tile in a large pool of blood.

"S-Spiker!" He gurgled lifting his hand up. Spiker fell down and tried to pick up Jonathan, but he could tell that the man was on the bridge of death.

"Don't die...please don't die!" Spiker whispered covered in his father's blood.

"T-th-the do-do" Jonathan sputtered pointing behind Spiker.

"What?"

"Doc-doc-doctor"

Spiker was about to turn around when a large hand grabbed the back of his neck and threw him from the middle of the kitchen and into the wall. Spiker's face was twisted in pain and confusion, his sight was blurry but he could make out the silhouette of Dr. Lecter. He quickly scrambled back to his feet making it to the door, tripping out though because of the blood that was all over the floor.

"Now I'm glad your mother called you." Hannibal said in a chilling voice following Spiker out nonchalantly. Spiker had collapsed on the dining room floor in despair and disgust, his abdomen retching, but nothing would come out.

"I thought I was going to have to bring you over here." He added picking Spiker up and dragging him towards the study. Spiker could already taste blood when he saw the door. He began to struggle, but Hannibal had a tremendous grip on the collar of his shirt. Finally he closed his eyes, stopped struggling and began to breath, trying to regain some sense of calm in the situation.

When he opened his eyes they were almost to the study, Hannibal humming symphony tunes as they went. Spiker gritted his teeth and spun around in Hannibal's grip grabbing his legs and making him trip. Hannibal only stumbled, but it was enough to loosen his grip on Spiker, giving him a chance to tear out of his hand and run towards the door. Spiker's face brightened as he thought of his bitter freedom. The sooner he got out of the Hell House, the better. But to his horror, Hannibal had taken a short cut through his study through another door and was blocking his getaway. Making Spiker stop short and sprint up the stairs. Hannibal quickly followed with a calm air and interested glint in his eyes.

He was half way up when he tripped, giving Hannibal the perfect time to grab his ankle.

"GET OFF!" Spiker shouted as he kicked his leg in the air.

Hannibal, not liking Spiker's behavior, violently pulled him down the stairs. Spiker's head made violent contact on the edge of a step. He gasped in pain, his hands automatically going to the back of his head, where he could feel blood begin to seep through a large gash.

"You just need to lie down." Hannibal said, laying Spiker on his back, one hand holding onto his wrists above Spiker's head, and his knees on Spiker's shins.

"That's better." Hannibal muttered to himself as he brought out a knife. Spiker's look of panic had mixed in with the pure determination of getting up the stairs. He freed and raised a fist and hitting Lector, freeing his grip on his legs and other hand, allowing him to scramble once more up the stairs. As he got to the top, he realized that his right arm was bleeding; a large vertical cut was oozing red blood.

_'Bastard must've gotten me when I was getting up....' _He thought running down the hall.

He didn't know why he thought of going to the bathroom, maybe because he had figured that Hannibal's house was like his and the bathroom had the window. It was a chance he had to take, plus he could always lock himself in there and hope for the best. Spiker made his way to the bathroom and opened the door, but someone was already in the bathroom, and he slipped on the blood falling on the body of Cynthia.

"HOLY SHIT!" Spiker shouted jumping back, right into Hannibal's hands.

"Nice try dear boy. I'll give you that." He said as if not even noticing the woman laying in her own blood on the floor. Spiker tried to block himself in the bathtub of the bathroom, trying his best to slap Hannibal's hands away. He was finally beaten by a sharp glare, and a quick slap on the part of Spiker's head that had kissed the stairs. As Spiker recoiled in pain, Hannibal once again grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him up and began walking down the hall, humming some inaudible tune.

As they got to the stairs, Spiker started to struggle, and flail violently. His plan was to make Lector lose his footing and fall down the stairs with hope of breaking something. But Hannibal had stopped short of the stairs, and eyed the struggling boy with annoyance. He clasped his hand firmly around Spiker's neck, lifted him up with ease and swung him around above the stairs.

"If you want me to let go that bad..." He said like a parent scolding a child. "Then I will." He finished letting go of Spiker and watching him fall down the stairs. Spiker landed at the foot of the stairs, the gash on his head from his first fall had grown, he could taste blood in his mouth, and he was sure that more than two ribs where broken.

"Come on boy." Hannibal sighed in a dreamy tone as he dragged Spiker to a chair. He sat him down and began to tie a rope around him. He tied the rope very tight around his hurt abdomen making Spiker gasp in pain, another rope was tied tightly around his wrists behind the chair, and two more ropes tied his legs to the legs of the chairs....tightly. The last touch to the piece was the duck tape that was wrapped around his mouth.

"I was going to kill you along with your parents," Hannibal said producing the first words in the silence that seemed to be a timeless existence.

"But it seems that I'll have to do it later." He finished dragging Spiker (and the chair) out into the back yard and into the shed.

"You'll be comfortable in here for now." He said as he placed Spiker strategically in the middle of the some-what empty shed (Tools were hanging from the wall, but nothing cluttered the floor) and stepped out grabbing the door.

"This will give you time to go through your memories." He said shutting the door and drowning Spiker in complete darkness. He heard the loud and clear metallic tic of a lock and knew his situation was hopeless.

He did begin to think of the memories though, but it wasn't memories of when he was adopted by the now deceased DeMon's or memories of his real parents, or memories that involved the past, but of the night's events. His head felt like it was being torn in two, his chest was erupting in pain, his wrists were pounding because of the ropes, and the taste of blood was still strong in his mouth. He leaned forward and bowed his head, allowing the cold, darkness of his subconscious to drown him as he passed out.

And even after the half hour of terror, pain and loss, he let the darkness of the shed choke him, and he felt at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter Binding stood in his kitchen, elbow deep in murky dish water, in his little house on a New England street, where all the houses looked the same. His wife, Eva Binding, was sitting in the living room, resting her old bones in front of the television. But her eyes weren't on the bright screen of the T.V but on her fingers that danced with crocheting needles and yarn.

Mr. Binding watched his wife with love in his eyes, he had been married to Mrs. Binding for more than 40 years, and yet he still loved her with the energy of a young boy and with the same zeal as when they first met. He turned around to dry the last dish, humming to a catchy commercial jingle, when the phone rang.

"I'll get it Eva!" Mr. Binding shouted as he dried his wrinkly hands and grabbed the phone without even glancing at the caller I.D

"Evening, Binding residence." He said automatically.

"Hello Peter!" Announced an accented, crisp voice into the receiver.

"Its Hannibal Lecter from down the street." The voice finished.

"Good evening Dr. Lecter how are things?" Mr. Binding asked in a very happy note. It had been awhile since he had spoken to the doctor, and for awhile he had been itching to invite him to one of his summer parties, and now would be his chance.

"Fine Peter. How are you and the wife?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh Eva and I are doing just great--" He stopped short as Eva began to cough. She had been getting sick lately, and Mr. Binding knew he just might have to prepare the 'final' preparations soon for his dear wife.

"That's great Peter. Say you haven't seen or heard from the DeMon's have you by chance?" Lecter asked before Mr. Binding could finish his sentence. Mr. Binding stopped to think for a moment.

"No actually I haven't. Last time I saw Jonathan and Cynthia was a few nights ago."

"Okay and what about Spiker?"

"He never comes out much anymore....I think I saw him last week at my beginning of summer party." Mr. Binding said as he paused with a look of suspicion crossed his face and questions flashed through his mind.

"Why do you ask Doctor?" He said breaking the awkward silence that had settled like a heavy blanket of snow.

"Well they were all here; I had invited them to dinner you see." Hannibal started.

"Yes." Mr. Binding said in the short pause.

"And I told them to call me when they reached their house; I guess you can say I'm paranoid." He chuckled into the phone. Mr. Binding joined in with his own chuckle but still could not shake the odd feeling of suspicion that had settled in his old bones.

"Not at all Doctor, I understand completely."Mr. Binding assured. Hannibal muttered something that Mr. Binding could not hear before he continued.

"Well they left my house at, oh...eight thirty and it's now ten and I haven't received a phone call. So I was just wondering if you had seen them." Mr. Binding nodded and sighed.

"Well, it's not like them to not call." Mr. Binding said

"Yes, you're right. So if you see them, will you tell them to give me a call?" Lecter asked.

"Oh yes Doctor, I will. Bye now, you have a good night." Mr. Binding pushed the off button, returned the phone to its receiver and joined Mrs. Binding in the living room.

"Who was that Peter?" Mrs. Eva asked, her fingers still dancing with the needles and yarn.

"Oh it was Dr. Letcer from down the street." Mr. Binding said with a tired sigh.

"Seems that Johnathan, Cynthia and Spiker DeMon were over at his house tonight and he's just worried because he asked them to call him when they got home and he hasn't gotten a call yet." He explained. He smiled wearily as Mrs. Binding nodded and sighed.

"Oh I do hope their all right." She said glancing at the television.

"I'm more worried about Spiker than I am them." Mr. Binding sighed.

"Johnathan was telling me a few nights ago that he was having these horrible nightmares about the night his real parents were murdered." He added.

"That must be terrible." His wife said shaking his head.

"Well, I hope they're okay." Mr. Biding finished.

"Mhm." Mrs. Binding replied as her eyes closed again and her fingers continued to dance.

At that very moment, Spiker was having one of his nightmares.

He was walking down a pale hallway; it was an apartment building, a couple of blocks west of a university that his real parents had taught at. As he continued walking, he could hear someone humming something inaudible, yet strangely familiar. Shaking the thoughts from his head he continued walking until he reached two doors.

The first door was the color of deep, brown wood, it looked like new.

The second door looked old and somewhat charred, like it had been set on fire, and Spiker felt a huge wave of fear radiate from the burned door. The first door called out to him softly, telling him to open it, but it was the second door that had got his full attention. It seemed to scream his name and begged in pain, as if yearning for him to open it.

And so he did.

To his horror it revealed his real parents face down in pools of blood, fire sprouting around them. With that revealed, it opened something in Spiker's memories that allowed the noise of someone screaming to echo in his head. It also sent a huge wave of pain that started in Spiker's head and down to his toes. With each new sensation that Spiker felt, the flames in the room grew and became fiercer.

And the humming grew somewhat louder.

Spiker slammed the door to stop the flames from licking his body. His icy blue eyes scanned the hall way and in the blur of the moment, saw a dark, looming shadow walking ever so closer to him. He turned to the wood door and wretched it open to reveal the bloodied bodies of his adoptive parents, Johnathan and Cynthia DeMon.

Screaming, he fell backwards hard onto the floor, his head knocking against something, actually someone. Looking up he saw Hannibal Lecter, but he didn't linger long on his face, but immediately stared at the large, bloodied knife in his hands.

"Your turn." He said cynically lifting the knife. Spiker felt the need to run, but he also felt totally exhausted and was glued to the floor. With desperate, mercy pleading eyes, he watched Lecter launch the knife on its flight of death.

BOOM!

Spiker could hear his heart in his head

BOOM!

The knife plunged down, slicing the air with a soft hissing sound.

BOOM!

He closed his eyes and he visualized Death's embrace when....

BOOM

"C'mon Will stop it!"

Spiker's eyes burst open to the semi-darkness of a shed. In a matter of seconds the memories of the night before smacked him like a brick to a window as did the pain from his physical injuries.

"Sorry Dr. Lecter." A deep voice replied, even though it wasn't Lecter who had commanded the man to stop.

"It's quiet alright officer, he must be inspecting the wood. I've been meaning to fix it." Hannibal replied with a chuckle, sending an army of chills through Spiker's body.

"It seems to be crumbling at the right corner. But it should hold." said Officer Will Graham. A police officer that Spiker was very familiar with, and close to since his adoption with the DeMon's.

Spiker saw his chance of escaping and tried to scream, make noise, anything to get noticed. But his mouth was still covered in duck tape, and he couldn't move much due to his injuries.

"_NO! I have to do something!"_ Spiker thought trying to obtain some energy. Finally in a burst of confidence and momentum, he managed to slide the chair half an inch before falling over, making a very loud bang. Spiker smiled gleefully to himself despite the huge rippling waves of pain he had inflicted on himself.

Will Graham, who had begun to walk back to Lecter and the other officer, turned around sharply.

"What was that?" He called out walking back to the shed.

_'Please open it please!' _Spiker plead breathing hard in pain, he could feel in the gash in his head start to bleed again.

"Oh it's that shelf!" Lecter groaned loudly. Spiker imagined Lecter shaking his head and calling himself a fool, a thought that made him sick with rage.

"I've been thinking of fixing it for the past week and have never gotten to it! You must have knocked it down." He added. Spiker imagined his was shaking his head and laughing at himself. No longer sick with rage, he was bubbling with pure, white hot fury that could only be compared to the temperature of the sun.

"I'm sorry Doctor I'll go and put it up again if you want." Will called out in a worried tone reaching for the handle.

_'YES YES OPEN THE DOOR!' _ Spiker shouted in his head, his anger subsiding just a little in cool hope that Officer Will would save him. He watched the door with eyes as big as silver dollar sea shells and tears almost escaped.

"No, no it's quiet alright. I know I'll fix it one of these days." Hannibal chuckled. Spiker felt his fragile beam of hope begin to crack and crumble, and he begged to God that Will would go ahead and open the door.

"Besides, I lock that shed and the key is somewhere in one of my many junk drawers. It would be such a hassle to try and find one key so you can fix a cheap shelf." Lecter explained with other chuckle.

Will stared at the shed door before turning around to join the Doctor. Spiker made a small groan of dismay as he listened to Officer Will's footsteps on the soft grass and screwed his face into a combination of emotions and pain. He heard Hannibal say a few things as he issued the officers in, closing the door as he went. Spiker let out a rather loud groan and decided that all he could do now was sleep in the awkward position that he was in, telling himself that at least he tried.

"So you think something bad happened to them Doctor?" Will asked in Hannibal's study.

"I don't know, I just haven't heard anything from them. I'm worried." Hannibal answered.

"Don't worry sir we're sending out units to look for them and to gather clues." The second officer said with a reassuring smile.

An hour later the Will and his partner left, leaving Hannibal to do as he pleased. What he did first was gone to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. As he entered through the door, the memory of Spiker finding his father in a pool of blood crossed his eyes. Now the kitchen was spotless, as if nothing had happened no blood, or dead body. The bathroom, where Spiker had found his mother, was told the same exact story. Lecter allowed the thought to pass like a quick breeze and began to prepare his dinner.

After a small dinner at precisely 6:00 P.M, Hannibal went back to his study to read a book and to enjoy a glass of wine. It wasn't till four hours later when he remembered Spiker in the shed. Laughing at himself, he got up, put his book and glass away, retrieved a flash light, and went outside to the shed. Fantasizing about what Spiker had done to make such a loud commotion earlier and if he was still alive.

Now Spiker at this time was once again in a deep sleep. He had woken up two more times during the day thanks to his nightmares. Each nightmare was getting more and more frightening and revealing to Spiker. Finally all that clouded his vision was a black abyss, happily he allowed it to take over and he was finally feeling as if he was actually sleeping. That was, until he was awoken by a blinding light above him.

_'I guess I finally died.' _Spiker thought as he squirmed under the bright light.

_'I thought it was a warm light though...' _He added as he felt cold air rushing to him.

_'Guess I'm going to hell.' _He finished with a silent, delirious chuckle.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The bearer of the light announced in a creepy, familiar voice. Spiker's eyes burst open to find Hannibal with a flashlight in his hands.

"You made quite a fuss today… didn't think you could fall over." He said chuckling as he leaned over to pull Spiker up. He took a sharp intake of breath as he and the chair moved together, causing sharp pains from his ribs and head to crawl all over his body.

"And look at the mess you made." Hannibal scolded motioning to the small puddle of blood on the floor that Spiker had made when he fell over.

'_Oh I'm so sorry!' _Spiker snapped in his head, shooting a quick glare up at Hannibal, who accepted the glare with a small smile

"Oh well, we'll clean that up later." Hannibal said, closing the door.

A few minutes later, Spiker was sat down in the study; he looked around squinting because he was still partially blinded from the flash light. He looked at the books, the busts of classic figure heads, the desk and all, but what frightened him the most was his reflection in a display case. His face was very pale, his hair was caked with dried blood, the white long sleeve shirt that was once clean sometime before was covered in blood, dirt and tattered where Lector had sliced him on the stairs.

_'Son of a--' Before_ he could finish his thought Hannibal came in with a hot rag and a water bottle.

"Okay," He announced grabbing the chair from behind his desk,

"Let's see the damage." He finished ripping the tape of Spiker's mouth, making Spiker shout in pain.

"Well at least it's off." Hannibal scolded bringing the water bottle up to Spiker's mouth. Spiker steered his head away from the bottle, not wanting any part of Hannibal's sudden motives of mercy.

"IT's just water boy." Hannibal chuckled pouring a few drops on his hand and flicking it at Spiker, lightly spraying him with water. Spiker hesitated but finally put his lips to the nozzle of the bottle. As soon as the water hit his tongue began to take long gulps, relieved to finally get the stale taste of blood out of his mouth. It wasn't long until Hannibal took the water bottle away from Spiker, he wanted to inspect injuries and ask questions, and he knew Spiker could survive a few moments longer without it.

"Let's begin." He said getting up and walking behind Spiker.

"Well it looks like the cut on your head has gotten bigger." He said to himself. "And that's partly your fault." He placed the hot rag on the gash to clean some of the blood off for better inspection.

"No need for stitches though, that will make it easier." Spiker looked at Hannibal with a look of confusion, but Hannibal ignored it and went on with his analysis, walking once again in front of Spiker.

"Might need stitches on that arm...." Hannibal muttered bringing up his hands to Spiker's arm. Spiker tugged his arm away even though it caused him great pain. Hannibal merely shrugged and sat back down in front of Spiker. Not wanting any part of Spiker's irrational behavior, but, in one last inspection, he poked Spiker in the ribs, smiling wickedly as Spiker cringed and doubled over in pain.

"Few broken ribs not surprised." He finished, looking over Spiker one more time with an analytical look before moving on.

"Now boy, let's talk of those nightmares you've been having." He started, but Spiker said nothing and stared at his reflection in the book case.

"Johnathan had been telling me that you've been having nightmares about your real parents. I just had some questions about it."

This made Spiker's head snap in Hannibal's direction.

"You murdered my parents and kicked the crap out of me, locked me in a shed for God knows how long just to ask me about what I dream at night?!?!?!?" He shouted in anger. Hannibal chuckled dully noting Spiker's reaction.

"Not necessarily boy, " He started

"Your parents were beginning to pick up things about me anyway I was planning that night for months. But it never went into action until Johnathan mention your nightmares and that I was starting to show up in them." Hannibal explained leaning in close to Spiker's face.

Spiker gritted his teeth in uncertainty and tried to push his body into the chair, as if hoping the chair would suddenly absorb his body and make him disappear. But nothing was happening and Spiker was stuck with a mad man staring at him with cold eyes.

"What do my nightmares about my real parents have to do with you?" He growled. "I probably saw you in them because he resemble the man who killed them."

"How did they die?" Hannibal asked softly, completely ignoring Spiker's statement.

"They were murdered." Spiker replied bluntly "And the building we lived in was set on fire."

Images flashed through Spiker's mind as he began remember his dreams and what really happened.

"Where did you live?" Hannibal asked.

"I-in an apartment build...by....by....a college." Spiker could feel a cold sweat breaking across the back of his neck.

"That night of their murder you weren't with them?" The next question sounded like it came from Spiker's thoughts though it was Hannibal who asked.

"Who were you with?" Hannibal asked

"With another person down the hall...my parents went to an opera or something..." He looked at the ground wondering why he was answering all of Hannibal's questions.

A slight pause followed before the next question was strung in the air.

"You went back to your apartment at one point didn't you?"

"Yeah....I went to get a book or something." Spiker answered blindly.

"What did you see when you got to the door?" Hannibal's eyes were alit with determination; he knew the answers to his real questions were finally coming.

"The light was on…the door was unlocked…I thought that they had either just gotten home or they forgot about me." Spiker began to shake now, his icy blue eyes rolling in his sockets as memory after memory flashed through him.

"You opened the door?"

"Yes...." He said it as if he was out of breath

"And what did you see?" Hannibal asked, his final question strung like the final chord in the symphony of a thousand words.

"They were dead....on the ground covered in blood......someone was with them!" Spiker gasped as the face became clear and the tune the mysterious man in his dreams was humming showed its name. He wished he could hide his face or cover his ears, but his arms were still duck taped to the chair. His hands were in tight fists, trying to break free of the bonds that held them. Spiker could feel the heat of the room; see the fresh blood of his parents on the ground and the reflection of his eight year-old face in the red pools. He looked up at Hannibal with a look of recognition and desperation, only Hannibal was no longer in front of him.

"And who was in the room with them?" Hannibal asked suddenly appearing behind Spiker. With wide eyes and fear gripping his body he finally whispered:

"You."

"Correct." Hannibal said with staccato as he brought down a blunt object across the back of Spiker's head. Spiker immediately felt white hot pain and sleepy as he was once again swallowed by the black abyss of his dreams. Hannibal stood behind Spiker, if you could look into his eyes, you could see the gears clicking and whirling away madly. There was a new plan forming in his head, several actually. He was thinking of a way to dispose of the DeMon's, how to keep Spiker quiet, and how to use him to his advantages. He looked back down at the unconscious boy with a look of pity and appreciation.

"I'm sorry I did this to you twice boy." He announced as he began cleaning up. He remembered the eight year old boy he seen seven years ago. He had tried to kill him by hitting him hard on the back of the head but it seemed it only blocked his memory of the scene he saw. Which wasn't too bad, it actually allowed a twisted fate to bring Spiker back to him, for some fulfilling purpose. As he finished cleaning, he made sure Spiker was comfortable and made his way to the door way of his study, looking back with a soft grin.

"This time I won't kill you." He said with a devilish grin as he turned off the light to his study, leaving Spiker to, once again, his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal Lecter sat in his study late one evening, a book staring at him with words of what should have been an interesting story. But his eyes were not concentrating on the book, but on the clock which read 11:50 P.M.

"Any minute now." He thought going back to his book. Impatiently his fingers drummed on his desk as his plan ripped its way through his mind again and again. It had been a few months now since he had killed Jonathan and Cynthia DeMon and kidnapped Spiker. He had accomplished many things since then, like crack open the blank memory of Spiker's real parents, and set up a rather intricate scene to cover his tracks. He scanned the clock on the wall again reading 11:54 P.M., and sighed before returning to his book. At 11:56 P.M the phone finally rang and Hannibal's hand shot out, eagerly expecting the call. He took a few more seconds to get the tone of voice he wanted before answering the phone.

"Hello?" He asked in a tired yet alert way.

"Dr. Lecter?!?" Hannibal didn't reply at first, it wasn't the voice that he had been expecting.

"Dr. Lector? Hello? Are you there? It's John Binding!" Hannibal relaxed and spoke into the phone.

"Mr. Binding? What's the matter? You sound very...worried!" He said looking at the clock again.

"It's my Eva!" Mr. Binding sobbed into the phone. "She left for a walk at eight tonight and she hasn't come back!" Hannibal could hear more sobs in the back ground.

"Have you called the police John?" Hannibal asked calmly, and sweetly.

"Yes but I thought maybe you would have seen her!" The sobs became louder now.

BEEP! Someone else was calling, and Hannibal quickly scanned the clock and smiled to see that it was 12:01 AM. He turned his attention back to Mr. Binding to form his closing statement.

"John I'm sorry but I have to go, I'll keep my eye out for Eva!" He said sympathetically.

"Oh please Dr. Lecter! Oh God why!?!?" Mr. Binding shouted in hysteria before Hannibal hung up and answered the other line.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Lecter!" The voice of Will Graham exclaimed rather quickly

"Officer Graham? What seems to be the problem?" Hannibal asked masking his voice in a confused and worried tone.

"No problem." Will huffed into the phone; it was obvious that he had been running. Finally after a few more gasps of breath he spoke.

"We found the DeMons!"

Spiker awoke to darkness, the smell of dirt, and a painful throb in his head. His hands were bound in front of him, his legs were tied together, and his mouth was gagged. He tried to move but his left arm erupted in a volcano of pain, meaning that it was obviously broken. He turned over onto his back to face the ceiling, but it added more pressure and pain to his arm, forcing him to turn over again. So he did only in the opposite direction that he had before. As he turned over, he felt something move under him, sending two large objects hurtling towards him from the ceiling. As the two objects landed with a sickening thud Spiker threw in a look of horror as he saw the gray, bloody and bloated bodies of his parents.

He quickly, and painfully, sat up and began to scoot as far away as he could from the bodies. In the process of doing so, he bumped into something else, and he knew that it wasn't a good thing.

_'Don't look!' _He thought trying all his might to keep his eyes glued shut. When he felt the temptation of looking creep up his spine he clenched his fists together, ignoring the pain it resulted in.

_'DON'T LOOK!" _But, he knew that he had too and slowly turned his head, eyes creaking open like an old door. To his shock and more horror, he saw the glassy eyes of Mrs. Eva Binding staring at him in a way that looked like she was saying "Why?" to him.

_'Oh my God what the hell is going on!?!?!" _He thought shoving himself against the wall next to the body, grimacing as pain shot through his arm once again. After a few minutes of heaving and gasping for breath, Spiker felt his eyes grow heavy with exhaustion and sleep. He tried not to, because it felt like this was the first time in a long time that he had been awake, but it was a fight that he couldn't win. With one last sigh he leaned forward and drifted into an uneasy doze.

A few hours later a light from outside and the crunching of gravel jerked the poor boy awake, bringing back the fear he had felt when he woke up the first time. In a panic he looked around in the darkness trying to find some means of escape from his ropes and the room. But to his dismay he found nothing and knew for sure that he was as good as dead. He tried to remember where he was, what he was doing and what had happened. He couldn't even remember the last time he was fully conscious or the last time he had seen his parents and Mrs. Binding alive. The only thing he could pick out of the chaos of his mind was a classical tune, and a voice.

_'Oh my!' _The voice sang in Spiker's mind.

_'I thought you could do better than that!" _It added, bringing out the long lost anger from Spiker's injured body. He didn't know who was talking, but Spiker knew he felt nothing but rage and a sense of obtaining revenge for it. He glared at the dark wall in front of him and grinded his teeth, trying to visualize the supplier of the voice.

_'Oh well, I'll just have to dispose you like your parents. Such a shame' _The voice said, Spiker imagined the man slowly shaking his head and bringing out a knife. Scattered and broken memories flashed through Spiker's head. Images of blood, dead faces, pain and death flashed like a berserk strobe light, and it sent a wave of energy through Spiker.

"NO!!!!!!" Spiker shouted through his gag, promptly standing up, ignoring the pain that was constantly biting at him. A look of pure triumph and determination masked his hurt face for just a few moments. That is until he fell over due to the fact that he had briefly forgotten about his legs being tied together.

He groaned in pain as it sprouted from every bone, muscle and pore, along with a new pain fresh on his left cheek. He sat up, rubbed his cheek on his shoulder and saw a good amount of blood splotched on his should. He fixed himself into a better sitting position as he wondered what had cut his face, looking around in confusion. He finally swathe glint of sharp ridges realizing that it was Mrs. Binding's bracelet on her stiff wrist had proven to be the culprit. With a few minutes of thinking, a plan popped into his mind.

'_If that bracelet could cut my face, maybe it could...but what about my injuries?' _He thought declining the idea at first, remembering that his arm was broken. It was then that he heard a pounding at a door up stairs and immediately considered the plan.

"GO" he thought lifting his arms and moving them from side to side, hoping that the bracelet would prove to be a perfect tool like he had planned on. He tried hard to ignore the pain but after a few hard tugs across the bracelet he could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes as white hot pain engulfed his body. Finally after a few more tugs he felt the ropes snap and a cool breeze on his wrists as they began to breathe in the dead air around them

_"YES!" _Spiker thought with a look of fulfillment. He heard the crunching of gravel above him and saw a couple of shadows pass the window giving off the dim light.

Spiker quickly drew his left arm close to his body while his right arm immediately flew to the gag in his mouth and the ropes around his legs. After completing this task he hesitantly stood up, afraid that his legs were broken.

"Good, they're still working!" He muttered with a faint smile. He spent a few minutes in the dark thinking he could escape through the window that was above him. He then reconsidered when he saw a small flight of stairs to the right.

"Doofus." He said shaking his head, cracking a small smile. Noises came from outside again, only this time it was muffled voices that he couldn't really understand. He rushed to the stairs and slowly went up them. As he went up he counted the uneven wooden steps.

"10...11...12...13...not counting the floor at the bottom." Spiker said to himself out loud. It was kind of reassuring to hear his voice in the deathly silence. He cast one more look to the bottom where the dead faces of his parents and Mrs. Binding lay, it was probably because of his weakened state, but he imagined the faces of the three bodies crunched into looks of venomous envy. With a shudder of the heebie-jeebies, he took some deep breaths and made a promise to himself grimly

"No more dead faces." He sighed as he turned to face the door.

"Is this the house?" Asked a voice to the left of Spiker. Spiker froze, hand on the door knob, and fear ripping through him. There was familiarity in the voice, but Spiker couldn't place it with a face, and didn't want to, in case it was the voice of his assailant or assailants.

"Yeah." A second voice replied and a few seconds later he heard the front door, or what he thought was the front door, rattle as a third voice added.

"Doors locked hang on." His fear peaked as he realized he had been kidnapped by three people and the ones he had loved had been killed by their hands. He growled in anger, but it quickly dissolved as he tried to re-figure his situation. Spiker looked around, as if looking for a better escape route, but he knew that the door in front of him was his only way out without him injuring himself more than he was. So finally without a second thought he opened the door.

He was surprised to find a beautifully built log cabin with matching furniture and scenery. If Spiker wasn't scared out of his mind and injured, the cabin would've had a warm, homely feeling to it. But the fact that his parents and Mrs. Binding might have been killed in such a warm place gave Spiker the creeps. He ventured deeper into the house, looking around for an exit or a weapon to defend him with, not that he was in any state to fight with anyone. Spiker knew that if it was his assailants at the door, he was as good as dead because of his injuries.

'_Oh well I'm not going down without a fight, and I'll take one of them with me!' _Spiker though viciously as he stared out at the forest scenery that was in front of a large window. He could see a lake in the distance behind the trees, and another wave of familiarity splashed him. Had he been there before? It was all to familiar.

RATTLE

Spiker's head snapped to the direction of the sound and eyed the front door.

"Almost got it!" One of the voices behind the door grunted. Spiker faintly noticed the familiarity of the voice again but chose to ignore it, acting on instinct to escape. He slowly inched toward the door etching an escape plan in his mind.

'Okay, _as soon as that door opens BOOK IT!' _He repeated to himself over and over. His plan being to push the door open with his legs instead of his arms so his left arm wouldn't get damaged any more than it was.

"Hurry!" A voice quipped in impatiently, it was shortly followed by a loud snap meaning that whoever was playing with the lock had finally gotten through it. And as if it was his cue Spiker kicked he door open violently, flinging back whoever was behind it, and ran into the woods.

"SPIKER!" Will Graham shouted, standing by a startle Jack Crawford and a worried looking Hannibal Lecter. Will looked back at the two, thought for a second, and turned around to run after Spiker.

"Will!" Crawford shouted "Where you going?"

"I'm going to cut him off!" Will shouted back.

Spiker ran like there was no freaking tomorrow, trying his best to dodge trees, boulders, and bushes that hid in the cover of darkness. It was kind of awkward to run with his left arm pinned to his chest, but to Spiker, any type of running was better than nothing. He had heard the people shout at him as he dashed into the woods; shouts of 'stop' and someone yelling his name, but Spiker ignored them and continued running. All that was going through his head now was adrenaline, freedom and wondering when he'd get to the road. After a few yards of running Spiker was relieved to see the trees begin to thin meaning he was close to the road. With that little taste of freedom on the tip of his tongue, he drew out his reserve energy and began to sprint towards safety. He held in a shout of victory as he heard a car rush by and saw the black line of the street in the dim light of the moon.

'_Almost there! Almost there!' _He thought allowing fatigue to set in as he entered the home stretch. As Spiker's foot was about to kiss the pavement of freedom, he was tackled by Officer Graham.

"NO!" Spiker shouted in pain, he felt a huge weight of defeat along with the crushing pain of his broken and cracked ribs. Despite the pain though, he started to struggle and flail about in an attempt to get out of Will's hands, not even realizing that it was Will Graham who was pinning him down.

"Spiker stop it! It's Will Graham!" Will shouted while dodging Spiker's flying fists trying to calm the poor boy down. In reply, Spiker shot out his right fist giving Will a nice shiner, and knocking him a few feet back. Spiker got up on his knees and was about to start running again when Will recovered quickly and tackled Spiker once again, pinning him down and grabbing his radio.

"Jack I got Spiker!" He shouted into the receiver. "He looks really bad!" He finished putting the radio down and tried to comfort Spiker. Spiker was still trying to struggle the best he could, and it made Will feel a huge wave of grief. Spiker was covered in dirt along with dried and fresh blood, and it looked like he was in terrible pain. What had happened? Who would do such a thing to an innocent kid? Were just some of the questions rolling through Will's mind.

"Okay Will! Where are you?" Crawford barked from Will's radio.

"We're in front of the main road. I can see it from where I'm sitting." Will answered looking back at the road. He looked down at Spiker, noticing that he had calmed down and was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were fluttering this way and that as if trying to find another way to escape.

'_He probably thinks I'm a bad guy!' _Will thought sadly as he moved off of Spiker and leaned against a tree.

"Spiker?" He said out loud. Even though Spiker didn't meet Will's eyes, he could tell that Spiker was listening.

"Spiker, it's Will Graham okay?" Still Will received no verbal or physical reply, but he could tell Spiker was listening just not comprehending because he knew that if Spiker comprehended that it was him, there would have been some form of celebrating.

"I need you to calm down so I can take you back to the house!" Will said in a calm, instructing tone. As soon as the last word flew from Will's mouth Spiker lurched up and began to thrash about again. Will immediately jumped on Spiker again hoping to calm him down.

"NO!" Spiker shouted. "NO MORE DEAD FACES!" And with that last thought he blacked out, totally exhaustion and wishing his escape attempt had worked. Will lifted up his hands in alarm, wondering if he had done something to knock the boy out. He checked his pulse, relieved to feel a steady heartbeat and leaned once again on a tree.

'_What did he mean by dead faces?' _Will asked himself. Before he could answer himself, he heard the high shriek of Crawford's car and the road ahead of him. He smiled softly and stood up, keeping close to Spiker in case he were wake up and freak out again. Crawford and Hannibal both exited the car and made it quickly to Will and Spiker.

"I called for assistance." Crawford said to Will with a tired smile. "We found the bodies of the DeMon's and Eva Binding in the basement, along with cut ropes." He informed Will. Will looked at Spiker and tried to see the boy's writs in the darkness, but he couldn't.

"I think he ran because he thought we were the bad guys." Will said sadly, watching Hannibal inspect Spiker. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes until Hannibal finished his quick inspection with a very sad sigh.

"He's been through a lot…I wouldn't be surprised if there is some memory loss." He said in a very formal, doctoral fashion. Crawford and Will nodded in agreement and were about to add something else when they heard sirens in the background.

"I'll go tell the coroner where to go, Will, you stay here and help the paramedic crews, I'm sure Hannibal will stay with Spiker." Crawford instructed as he dashed to the road. Will mumbled an agreement and looked at Spiker one last time, hoping he would be okay and that no permanent damage had been done.

"At least we found him alive right Officer Graham?" Hannibal asked, shattering Will's train of thought.

"Yeah, I guess so." Will said with a sad, tired smile before turning and heading towards the road. Hannibal nodded and looked at Spiker with a small, cynical smile. His plan had worked perfectly.


End file.
